


Those Words Are Not Synonymous

by Polly_Phemus (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom Dean, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Oneshot, PWP, Strapping, Sub Sam, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 23:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Polly_Phemus
Summary: Dean's a little stressed. Sam's happy to do what he's told if it will help.Set during Season Two.





	Those Words Are Not Synonymous

Sam knew what he was in for the minute Dean walked in the door, and that knowledge made him go from soft to hard faster than he thought he could. And while he was no teenager, that was pretty fucking fast.

It had started just after Dean had walked out of the hospital in South Dakota and Dad...hadn't. Not long after, he'd offered Dean anything he wanted and he wasn't at all surprised that Dean wanted...him.

But not just Sam's body. His heart, which he'd already had, and his mind as well. Sam found that he was eager to give them both up, and that Dean wanted him not just willing but submissive as well...well, that suited Sam just fine.

"Rough day?" Sam asked.

"The worst," Dean said. "These wannabe witches...they think they know every thing there is to know about witchcraft but they can't even get their basic terminology right. They were using 'spell' and 'charm' interchangeably," Dean said with disgust, flipping open a beer can.

"With catastrophic results?" Sam guessed.

"Well, more messy and annoying than outright disastrous," Dean said grumpily, setting his beer on a nightstand. "But trying to explain to them that those words are not synonymous was like talking to a brick wall."

Sam made a sympathetic noise, mixed with a little arousal. Dean pretended like his vocabulary was shit, but he could pull out a good polysyllable with the best of them.

"They...lectured me, Dean. Told me what a disappointment I was when they were the ones fucking up."

"Frustrating," Sam muttered.

"Under the bridge," Dean said dismissively, but his shoulders were still tight.

"What can I do to make it better?" Sam asked in the quiet tone he used to indicate to Dean that he was ready to submit to his brother's commands.

"Get naked, Sammy," Dean said. Sam hastily obeyed. Under these circumstances, he didn't mind being called 'Sammy.' Didn't mind it a bit.

Dean looked him over. "Lookin' good, there, kiddo. Like always." Sam felt awkward. He liked it when Dean spoke to him roughly, giving him orders. Praise, no matter how offhand, made him feel off balance.

"And now?" Sam asked.

"Position," Dean ordered. Sam knelt on the floor, bending over the foot of the bed, bracing his arms on the ugly bedspread covering the cheap motel mattress and shivered, slightly from the cold but mostly from anticipation as he heard Dean unbuckle his belt and slide it out of its loops.

"Take fifteen without warmup?" Dean asked.

"Twenty," Sam said, unable to resist one-upping Dean. Or the idea of twenty licks with the belt.

Dean thrashed him with the belt. Sam welcomed the pain, the way it aroused him, the way it made him cry.

"All done," Dean said.

"No way was that twenty," Sam protested through his tears.

Dean swatted him a few more times. Sam's hips humped the air.

"That was twenty-five," Dean told him, "and all you're gonna get, so you better thank me."

"Thank you for the thrashing, Dean," Sam said, still crying. Still hard.

"Now I want you to fuck me. On your back," Dean ordered.

Sam got on the bed, stretching out face up, letting the bedspread abrade his burning ass. Felt so fucking good. Better even than the tears leaking down the sides of his face.

He watched while Dean picked up some lube he'd stashed nearby at some point, watched while Dean reached behind to get himself ready.

He hissed when Dean dripped lube on Sam's cock, not bothering to warm it in his hands first. Sam didn't get that kind of consideration from Dean. Didn't want it or need it.

"Hands over your head, Sammy," Dean ordered and Sam stretched his hands above him, arms fully extended, left hand gripping his right wrist for that extra bit of self control.

He bit his lip as Dean lowered himself onto his cock. 

"God," they both breathed. Sam felt surrounded by his brother, trapped in the best possible way. He had no idea how Dean felt; neither Dean nor anyone else had ever taken his ass.

"My slut, can't control his own dick," Dean muttered, the words barely understandable but the meaning clear. Sam was his.

"Not his own dick," Dean gasped, correcting himself. "My dick. I'm the only one who gets this, right Sammy?"

"Your dick," Sam agreed and it was true. Dean owned him, body and soul.

Dean set a punishing pace riding Sam and stripping his dick and it was all Sam could do to hold still and let his brother use him. To not come until Dean said he could. Sobbing from the pain in his ass and the pressure surrounding his cock.

Dean threw his head back, his neck arching as he came.

"Fuck!" Dean bellowed.

Only a few seconds passed before he came back to himself. He looked down at Sam, who was still shaking and desperate.

"Nice one, Sammy," Dean said lazily as he carefully levered himself off Sam, who just moaned in response.

"Aw, bet my dick wants to come," Dean said, reaching for his beer.

"It does," Sam said desperately, his hips jerking up into the cool motel room air. "But only if you say it's okay," he added hastily.

"Sure," Dean said generously. "Left hand only, though. Keep your right nice and high. And don't touch your balls."

Sam whined, just a little. Not his favorite way to come, but a fuck of a lot better than nothing.

"Quit yer bitchin'," Dean said. "Get to it." He grinned. "After all, we've got all night."

Sam put his left hand on his cock, fucking into his hand furiously. He had no idea what Dean had planned for the rest of the night, but his need to find out was almost as urgent as his need to come.

Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing as an attempt at therapy.
> 
> Having a bad day; woke up at 2 a.m. to find someone had dumped a load of codswallop in one of my comments sections. It wasn't quite laughable...yet. In a couple of days, it will be. Meanwhile: fic!


End file.
